


A Java Is Brewing

by AphTeavana



Series: AphTeavana's Fanfiction of OCs [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 5 Times, Asian Character(s), Barista Rue, Coffee, Coffee Shop, F/F, Fanfiction of Original Character(s), First Meetings, Five Times, Flirting, Fluff, Forensic Investor Isabella, Humor, Latina Female Character Asain Female Character, Male-Female Friendship, Oblivious Isabella (RROC), Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Original Fiction, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Romance, Slice of Life, White Female Character, and the one time she purposely seeks her out, but not too ugly, coffee shop AU, five times Isabella happens upon Maira, meet ugly, the one time she doesn't
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 12:08:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20358244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AphTeavana/pseuds/AphTeavana
Summary: Isabella is a workaholic who needs to learn how to slow down and relax in life. Maybe finding love can help her see in a completely new perspective."But I mean so can coffee- No? No coffee? Okay, fine."





	A Java Is Brewing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ramama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramama/gifts).

> Follow her on Twitter @RamonaRilla!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabella makes a deal with Rue

Exhaustion.

That’s all Isabella can focus on right now. Because even her body knows it’s too early to leave her bed and begin another day.

She breathes in her first waking breath and manages to push herself on her other side, right next to her phone that was blaring its big, dumb, loud alarm. Too loud to let her sink back into unconsciousness and give her brain the rest it needs.

“I don’t like you,” She moans at the darkened screen as it reflects back her messy, tired image. It continues screaming at her — Because, of course, it does. It’s an alarm Isa, not a living being. — as if to say _Too bad bitch! You brought this on yourself!_ She picks it up with a huff and allows its screen to awaken and blind her before turning it off the alarm.

For a second, and she swears only for a second, she thinks about slowly easing back into the covers and drifting away back into dreamland, but she knows if she committed that crime today she’d commit it tomorrow and then the next day and the next day and the next one after that and it just wouldn’t do. So, she rolls herself further towards the edge of the bed and allows gravity to pull her off the passage to cloud nine and instead jump-start her body’s panic mode into standing on her wobbly morning feet and pushing the muscles to move her to the bathroom to start her day.

Shower. Clothes. Makeup. Hair. One by one she goes through her routine’s checklist and marks off each task. Though, today’s her first day off in a long while. So long, in fact, she didn’t even realize it until she was picking up her uniform, ready to mess with all the buttons after taking a quick dip in the hot shower water. She shrugs and drops the fitted shirt with no care for it and pulls out the first garment her hand touches in the closet, a nice white, floral dress. The freedom of unrestrictive fabric almost makes her tear up as she dances through the rest of her makeup and settles for tying up her hair in a scrunchie.

Soon enough, she’s ready for the day and still drop-dead exhausted! “Mm, love that,” She mumbles as she twists her key in the lock of her apartment door with practised ease. She knew it was only a fifteen-minute walk to her favourite bakery and coffee shop, appropriately named Sweet Sunsets, a small feat for LA, but that’s fifteen long, painful minutes she has to open her eyes to the world and direct her limbs to march in the right directions. With enough mental berating, she manages to speed walk herself to the shop with only five minutes and a collapsed lung to spare.

At first sight of the white cement shopping strip, Isabella becomes ecstatic with sudden lively energy. “Yes, _yesss_-” She whispers to herself. “Gonna fricken’ _get it_. Get it so good.” To any other passerby insane enough to be awake and active at five forty-five am, she probably looked like some caffeine junkie with a life-debilitating addiction but Isabella doesn’t care. Isabella cannot care, not until she’s pumped full of so much coffee that the heartache of existence becomes only a distant, wandering concern. Isabella bursts through the front door of Sweet Sunsets only to immediately knock into something with graceless noise.

“Maldición, cuidado mamí!” Ah, that _something_ is actually a _someone_. Whoops. “Trying to kill people out here?” The person yelps at her disruption with complete confusion written on their face, a box of pastries had almost flown from their hold when Isabella had come in whipping the door open like it was hurricane season and they were now checking to make sure nothing had been smashed in the collision.,

“I’m so sorry about that-” Isabella apologises nervously, finally stopping to take in her environment. A woman, darkly tan with curly bob and two inches shorter, gives her a crazed look, which is _fair_. “I wasn’t paying attention at all, but I should have been! That was very irresponsible of me and I am-”

“It’s cool,” The woman snorts at Isabella’s rambling and resituates her take-out box. “I know first hand that the coffee is to die for, but I don’t think that’s what people are necessarily coming here for.” Seeing her fluster to apologise again, the woman winks and walks out the door Isabella had used as a failed attempt for an Olympic finish line.

And then, clapping. From further inside the bakery. “That was so smooth, Isabella. You don’t even know,” Rue, the owner and a long-time friend of Isabella’s, sarcastically cheers her on from her workstation.

“Shut up!” The blond tetters for a second, almost tilting over too far, but ultimately makes the last several steps to flop herself down in front of her friend, “Rue, I'm gonna _mmmmm_-” Ah, Isabella, Isabella, _Isabella_. Overworking again, are you? Overexerting your body, are you? Dying because your organs shut down from the caffeine overdose, are you? _Night shifts taking a toll again, are they?_

Well, Rue’s not going to fall for it this time. She’s done with the _I’m fine!_ cycling to _May-be not_ to Yes, _I’m totally resting_ only to go back to _I’m fine!_ once more. “Please don’t die in my café. It’s a health violation and I can’t afford to survive on ramen again,” She says to the zombie that has attached itself to her register and politely plucks its fingers off.

“I wouldn't do that to you,” Isabella mumbles, face now firmly planted on the counter.

“I don't know, man.” Rue rubs her nose gently, not wanting to sacrifice her makeup for a measly itch. “We all know you’re not exactly the most responsible drunk.”

“What kind of comparison is that,” Isabella whines as the barista smirks at her misery.

“A true one. Do you want your usual?” Rue asks as she's already punching in the order.

Isabella sighs, “Yes, please.”

Rue takes her card and quickly finishes the transaction with a printed receipt, as always demanded of her, before waving Isabella off to a seat who follows all orders to a T and sits down on a stool at the coffee bar.

A minute later a sugar-espresso concoction, dubbed as _The Abomination_ by Rue, is set down before Isabella along with a banana nut muffin, interrupting her daydreaming. “So what's happened lately? You haven't been stopping by every day like you used to.” Rue asks, sliding into the seat next to her. The shop may be open but there was never any real traffic until about six-thirty and the last of her morning preparations were already taken care of, so, as far as she was concerned, Rue had all the time in the world to listen to her friend's strife.

“I've been… working,” She says oh-so-casually.

But Rue won't play this game, “What's going on at work.” It's not a question.

“Stuff,” Isabella fills in helpfully unhelpful.

Rue raises an eyebrow, “Only stuff?”

“Yeah just,” Isabella turns to her, only to see the look in her friend's eyes and decides it's not worth the uphill battle. “Maybe it’s quite a bit of stuff?” Rue folds her arms and the tension triples. “Okay, so, a lot- like an enormous amount.” She wheezes out.

Rue shakes her head at Isabella, “Tell me about what's going on.” She looks her friend up and down, taking notice of the light bruises that rested on her arms and even one on her cheek. “Starting with last night.”

“Ugh, I was hoping you would ignore that.” Isabella groans as she stretches her back out, chest laying over the counter, “But my body hurts so much and I guess you're gonna make me talk about it anyway…”

“Mmhmm, so get going already,” Rue demands.

“Okay, okay-” Isabella says as she cowards dramatically, “It started off with someone doing a routine questioning with a couple of kids that witnessed our newest case, a nightclub hold-up turned sour, but then one of the little hooligans knocked the lights out of Officer Boyle! I managed to stop her — well it was more like she stopped herself with me — before she could seriously take off and got someone to file her for a 10-26 which was _not_ fun.” She rubs her still-bruised elbow tenderly. “Teenagers are too quick and spry these days, man. But other stuff too.”

Rue sits patiently with Isabella for a few more minutes, working through her woes with her. Obviously any job will have its struggles, especially government ones, but at the rate Isabella is busting her butt the poor woman is going to fall apart.

“I think you should stop going to work.”

“What!” Isabelle cries, “Why?”

Rue looks at her pointedly. “Because you’re always exhausted? Because you’ve stop socializing with everyone? Because you’re working yourself to the _death_.”

“I don’t- That’s not-” Isabella gently bumps her head onto the counter before looking back at Rue reluctantly. “You're probably right.”

Rue narrows her eyes, “Probably?”

“Mmhmm,” Isabella mumbles.

A begrudging sigh is let out. “Here’s what I think you need to be doing, you listening?” Rue waits until she’s given a solid nod. “First of all, talk to your boss about reducing your work hours.” Isabella groans. “Then, you’re going to reconnect with some old friends.” Another grumble. “_And_, most importantly, you’re going to practice marching your ass into bed by eleven each night.” The blond is basically falling off her stool at this point.

Rue just rolls her eyes at her friend, “Isabella, this rut you’re always digging yourself into is unhealthy! You’re burning yourself out and one day it might be too much for any one person to handle.”

“I don’t know about all this though. I mean, I only got promoted last month.” She looks down at her drink thoughtfully.

“Please, you deserve it after everything you’ve done for them.” Her face relaxes into a fond smile, “Plus I miss hanging out with you and laughing the time away.”

“I do too,” Isabella admits. “But…”

“I’ll throw in a free coffee~” Rue teases her desires.

Isabella whines again, “That’s not fair- you’re cheating!”

“Well,” Rue holds her hand out to her friend tenderly. “Is it a deal?”

Isabella sighs. She didn't want to pull away from her career now that it was finally going somewhere, but even she had to admit that the stress she was putting herself through for it was insane. She meets Rue halfway and they shake on it.

“It’s a deal.”


End file.
